Everything she touched
by JadeSelena
Summary: Angsty Fabrevans, post 3-13, K for implications. Even with the best of intentions Quinn can't help but make a mess of things 2/27 Updated to in-progress; end-game Fabrevans
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! **

**I don't normally write Glee (t****his is my first) but I love Quinn and Fabrevans and decided I needed closure on them because as far as I know (admittedly I may have missed a couple of episodes 'cause I'm not diehard) we never got any on the show. I have nothing against Samcedes but I had to get this off my chest and out of my head or else I wouldn't have been able to get back to my other stories.**

**Fair warning: There is no happy ending to this story; it's about all the things they never said, not getting them back together. If there's call for it and I get inspired I could write a sequel (as much as I like angst I also like pay-off) but I won't guarantee anything. That being said, I hope you'll still read it and I hope you enjoy :)**

**This takes place at the end of 3-13 while they're still at Breadstix.**

**I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OR THE SHOW - I'M JUST GIVING MYSELF WHAT THE WRITERS WON'T**

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><p>Quinn pushed through Breadstix' door and into the chilly air, cinching the belt of her coat tighter as she scanned the darkened parking lot.<p>

"You take up smoking again or are you checking up on me?"

The proximity of the sound made her want to jump; years of discipline allowed her to suppress it. Taking a steadying breath she turned to find Sam leaning up against the building, partially shrouded in shadow. "If there was ever a day…" she joked, unsmiling. It wasn't a coincidence she'd made her way back to the God Squad this week of all weeks; just because she'd decided to focus on herself (_again_ – she'd get it right eventually) didn't mean she couldn't use the distraction. Granted she hadn't anticipated a week of delivering sappy love songs for disgustingly happy couples…

Sam noticed she hadn't answered the question but he hadn't really expected her to; if there was one thing she was good at it was _not _making you feel like a charity case even when you knew you were one. "Everybody still partying?" It was closing on midnight and he just wanted to go home. Well, not _home _home – his temporary home at the Hummel-Hudson's. Though _home _home was beckoning, too…

Moving to hold up the wall next to him Quinn crossed her arms to burrow her hands in the opposite sleeves, gazing off into the distance. "Yeah – Mr. Motta might not be mafia but evidently underage drinking isn't a big concern for him." Even if she hadn't been driving she would have abstained – her and alcohol didn't mix at the best of times and she was hoping to avoid instigating a fight and/or dissolving into a blubbering ball of weak. It was a little harder to fake being poised and perfect three sheets to the wind…

He nodded but didn't volunteer an opinion; the events of the day had taken their toll, leaving him numb and beyond caring.

"Did you want me to give you a ride home?" she offered, certain he wouldn't ask. "You know Kurt's not going to leave Blaine's side without a crowbar and Finn and Rachel are too busy celebrating their ill-advised yet fully-supported pending nuptials to tear themselves away…" She had no idea what the heck their parents were thinking but apparently she wasn't the only one suffering from random bouts of temporary insanity. The thought wasn't as comforting as it probably should have been.

"No. Thanks." The last year had been the worst of his life for a lot of reasons and this was just one more to add to the growing list; it wasn't going to send him running.

Quinn let the faint echoes of music envelope them, knowing he would speak when he was ready to. Or go back inside if he just didn't want to speak to _her_. While it would probably be awkward for him to talk to his ex-girlfriend about his other ex-girlfriend their relationship since the break-up couldn't exactly be considered conventional…

It was a good ten minutes before Sam broke the silence to tell her, "You don't have to stay, you know…" She wasn't dressed to be standing outside – as evidenced by the way she'd put her sleeve around her nose and mouth and blown into it – and he didn't want her to be uncomfortable just because he couldn't stand to partake in the festivities.

That it was phrased as a suggestion, not an instruction, wasn't lost on Quinn. She _was_ cold though so she decided to get the ball rolling. "I'm proud of her, you know?"

Sam took his attention off the passing traffic to glance at her.

"Mercedes," she clarified, seeing his confusion out of the corner of her eye. "I guess proud is the wrong word – I have no right to be _proud_ of her…" Putting her thoughts in order she started again. "What I mean is that I admire her."

"_Admire_ her?" he repeated incredulously. Was it some kind of cruel joke? It wasn't like Quinn to come outside just to rub it in – not the Quinn he'd _started _dating anyway – and he hoped she had a good explanation.

Well aware he'd taken offence she dropped her voice to a soothing decibel. "Here the rest of us are making terrible decisions based purely on emotion, but she's taking a step back and actually looking at the _reasons_ behind it before she does more damage." She focused on the lights of a retreating plane, avoiding his gaze. "I wanted Beth back because I thought she could somehow heal me; make me not feel dead inside. Rachel thinks getting married now will somehow negate the fact that they're too young to even know what they want for the future much less that it will be the same when they do. And you… you think getting Mercedes back is going to somehow justify _how _you got her."

It was hard to get upset when her tone was soft and her words were reasonable but he managed it. That she still refused to meet his eyes, even while criticizing him, made it a bit easier… "She was with me _first_…"

Quinn shrugged, ignoring the hypocrisy. "And I was with Finn first; it doesn't make what I did right. Or Rachel for going after him the second or third or _whatever_ time it was the last time. Or any of the other times our friends have played musical partners…" They really were a sadly incestuous little family. "It takes guts to admit you did something wrong and that it isn't _okay_ just because you have feelings for the person; not to pretend that the other person you hurt _doesn't _hurt just because you stopped." Finally meeting his eyes she shared, "It takes even more guts to let _yourself_ hurt so you don't hurt someone else more…"

Sam didn't need to see the unshed tears to know she was thinking about her decision to let Beth go, and he was gripped with sudden and horrible guilt. For ignoring the obvious cries for help when he'd returned to Lima; for brushing her off and rejecting her problems as trivial when she'd risked her reputation and her relationship with Finn to help him before he'd left. And because, despite how he'd treated her, she was _still_ trying to help him.

Turning back to the horizon Quinn willed her eyes dry. "You can't blame Mercedes for wanting to be sure the decision she makes is for the right reasons, Sam. Even if it doesn't work out – she doesn't choose you – it still means she loves you enough not to needlessly hurt you while she figures it out."

Her voice was hoarse, almost regretful, but Sam knew if he mentioned it she'd just say it was due to the weather and all the singing she'd done. Still, he couldn't _not_ mention the implication. "And you _didn't_…"

Quinn thought the more accurate parallel to draw would be that she hadn't loved _Finn _enough but it was a useless distinction to make, especially since she'd settled for him anyway. "Apparently not," she admitted quietly. As much as she'd hated Santana for it the Latina wouldn't have been able to break them up if she herself hadn't made the first crack with her lies. If she'd loved him enough, loved _herself_ enough, she'd have come clean and maybe they'd have been able to work through it. It was just one more 'what if' to add to the pile of 'coulda shoulda woulda's that made up her life…

"Did you love me at all?" The question was out there before Sam could stop it, though he wouldn't have taken it back even if he could. For all the time they'd spent together before he moved they'd never really talked about _them_, the only closure he'd gotten the empty victory of being the one to walk away.

The knot in Quinn's chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. She didn't know which was worse: that he was afraid to ask or that she'd given him reason to doubt it to begin with. Swallowing the guilt she whispered, "Does it matter?"

"It does to _me,_" he assured her, voice low yet forceful. Her jaw tensed but she didn't turn, just kept staring ahead, so he moved to stand in front of her and waited for her to meet his eyes. "'Cause I thought you did and then I found out you were playing me for a fool and then I thought you didn't." More plea than statement he quietly finished, "I need to know one way or the other, Quinn…"

It was on the tip of her tongue that he _would_ know if he had actually _talked_ to her instead of falling at Santana's 'feet' but all the recriminations in the world couldn't change what was already done. "I wasn't trying to play you, Sam," she sighed, burrowing her hands further into her sleeves so she couldn't give in to the need to touch him. "I mistook the satisfaction of Finn pursuing me for nostalgia and I didn't tell you because I was confused and careless." Lifting an eyebrow she added pointedly, "I wasn't half as self-aware or selfless as Mercedes is…"

Sam shook his head, not following her attempt at deflection. "That's not an answer…"

She'd said as much as she was prepared to on the matter. There was no reason to rehash old wounds, not when she was newly independent and he was in love with someone else; nothing to be gained by telling him she sometimes wondered if he'd missed her at all once he'd moved, or if he spoke Na'vi to Mercedes the way he used to her, or if the self-proclaimed diva had given herself to him completely last summer. _Why_, with all the time they'd spent babysitting together, had she had to find out from Rachel that he was dating Mercedes at all… Looking up at him with affected detachment she reasoned, "That's subjective, isn't it?"

"_Seriously_, Quinn?" The gross indifference had him clenching his fists in his pockets and choking out, "Do you _get_ how much I loved you? I thought we were going to spend the rest our lives together for God's sake! I loved you _so much _I convinced myself that stupid gumball story was _real_… It almost _killed_ me when Santana forced me to face the truth!"

The use of the past tense, the reminder of what she'd thrown away, left Quinn feeling nauseous and her eyes stinging. She immediately replaced the ache with anger. "She helped you get over it pretty quick though, didn't she? No heartbreak a jaunt down to Santana's Village can't cure, I guess…" It was a low blow but she'd been holding _that _shit in for a year.

Sam blinked at the undercurrent of venom. "That's not fair…" Unlike her _he_ hadn't cheated; well, unless you counted that little sneak peak Santana had given him in the library but he'd already decided to break up with her by then…

Quinn waved a disinterested hand. "You know what's funny? Other than the fact that you left me for Santana only to be played _by her_? That you're now Finn, doing to Mercedes what he did to me." Except Quinn had foolishly invited it when she'd kissed him and Sam didn't have that excuse. "You think you're being fair to _her_? You're not."

Pulling a hand from his pocket Sam ran it through his hair in frustration. "You think I don't see what you're doing? Turning it to Mercedes every time I try to talk about us?"

"There is no 'us,' Sam," she informed him with a sad shake of the head. "We're barely even friends anymore…" There was a disconnect between them ever since he'd gotten back, though whether it was because of Mercedes or that they didn't have Stevie and Stacy around to bind them she didn't know.

The words cut like a knife even though there was at least some truth to them. Trying to hide the hurt he breathed, "Then why'd you come out here?"

Where _he_ got off being insulted when he'd so swiftly dismissed her and her 'rich white girl problems' Quinn had no idea… "Because Mercedes and I may have our issues but she will always be my girl – she took me in when I had nothing and she was with me for the most difficult moments of my life… I don't want you to hate her for this; she doesn't deserve it."

The near-hate Sam was feeling wasn't aimed at Mercedes; he couldn't deny he was still drawn to Quinn – he still watched for her reactions and valued her opinion above most everyone else's – and the thought that he was nobody to her was agonizing. "So it has nothing to do with me at all…"

Quinn had seen him struggle to wrap himself up in the anger; heard the crack in his voice signaling he'd failed. "I didn't say that," she placated softly. She'd spent the last year trying to make it up to him any way she could; if that meant consoling him when someone else broke his heart then she sucked it up and dealt.

"Can you stop talking in riddles and just say what you mean?" he huffed, resisting the urge to shake some honesty out of her. "I'm not Batman and I can't read your mind!" Normally he found her flair for the enigmatic charming but right then it was just maddening.

_Batman?_ It took Quinn an instant to make the 'Riddler' connection. Cocking an eyebrow both amused and mocking she 'tsk'ed, "Then you're a sorry excuse for a superhero, Mr. Evans…"

Sam fought to stay serious, keep the conversation on track, but was ultimately undone by the husky tone and mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Washboard abs count as a superpower!" he protested haughtily, lips twitching into a smile.

The familiar goofy grin had Quinn's heart skipping a beat, and for a split second she was transported back to before everything had gone to hell. The return trip had a horribly painful landing.

"Q?" The light in her eyes had died, replaced by glossiness, and Sam's smile died with it.

"Don't," she warned, putting out a hand to halt his advance. "You're just upset about Mercedes and it's making this all weird." A half-hour internal debate and she'd _still_ made the wrong decision in coming out there…

Sam captured her hand mid-air, moving forward until he was holding it against his chest. "Please don't tell me how I feel…" Brushing her bangs away with his other hand he confessed, "You are a _very_ hard woman to get over, Quinn Fabray. And every time I think I've succeeded you do something to remind me why I fell in love with you in the first place."

"_Sam_…" Her fingers curled around his of their own accord, even as she half-heartedly tried to put some distance between them.

"You risked everything to keep my secret – put me before Finn – and I can never tell you how much that meant to me." Giving her a charmed smile he admitted, "You kinda lost me on the whole Beth thing but in true Quinn fashion you regrouped and overcame. At the homeless shelter I saw my girl again, a little worse for wear but still fighting. _Always_ fighting…"

Quinn bit her lip to keep from crying, the sincerity in his voice scaring her as much as it was tearing her apart. "You were …"

Sam covered her mouth before she could bring up Mercedes again. "When you sang that J5 song I couldn't take my eyes off you, and I felt like I'd gotten caught staring at the most untouchable girl in the school again. Like in the beginning, when you were saving me from slushies and schooling me in astronomy; before I managed to win you over…"

This time she couldn't keep the tears from escaping, the evoked memories too raw to suppress. Moving his hand she found her voice to argue, "But it's _not_ the beginning; too much has happened since then. I've done too much…" This little foray down memory lane wasn't accomplishing anything. It wasn't what she'd come out there for.

"I don't care. I still love you, Q," he promised, brushing his thumb over the wet tracts that said everything she wouldn't allow herself to. "I don't think I ever stopped, and I don't want to say goodbye…"

Quinn swallowed the sob that was building in her throat. Placing a tender hand on his cheek she summoned all her courage to whisper, "Sam, we said goodbye a long time ago. You love Mercedes and I'm leaving in a few months."

He shook his head, opened his mouth to object, but her nimble fingers were lightly pressed against his lips.

"We were never meant for forever," she admitted painfully, tears streaming freely down her face. "We just maybe ended sooner than we were supposed to…"

"Quinn, _no._" Sam wouldn't accept that. He _couldn't_.

"I'm so sorry..." she whimpered, ignoring the shattering of her heart to gently disentangle herself from him. The last thing she'd wanted to do was hurt him again but things never turned out the way Quinn intended. Hurrying back into the restaurant she couldn't help but think, _Everything I touch…_

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><p><strong>I'm sorry, too :(<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I know the last chapter was a little angsty for most people so I had planned on giving this story a happy ending. And then the show completely threw me for a loop and I wasn't sure I wanted to continue. But I already had most of the dialogue and figured what the hell. At least I can get Fabrevans in my head and share it with you guys :)**

**Picks up right after the last chapter.**

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><p>"And where did you up and disappear to, missy?" Kurt demanded, hooking his arm through Quinn's and dragging her back to their tables. "You missed <em>the<em> strangest rendition of 'It's in his kiss…'"

Initiated by him, Quinn was sure. Forcing a smile she fibbed, "I was getting some air. Drunk people aren't nearly as much fun when you're not one of them…" And if she'd known she'd end up a blubbering ball of weak _anyway_ she most definitely would have been.

Kurt nodded his sage agreement. Thankfully Blaine was still on meds and _couldn't _drink… "We're going to do another group number; do you have any requests?"

_The last hour to do over if you can swing it…_ She gave him her best wiped look and shook her head. "I'm just going to get out of here. It's been a long day and I don't have the vocal stamina you guys do." Before he could call her on it she squeezed his arm and picked up her purse, then froze when she saw Sam enter the restaurant and make a beeline for Mercedes. Torn between relief and regret she instructed, "Tell everyone I said bye, okay?" She'd planned on making the rounds but suddenly the room was stifling.

The waver in her voice had Kurt tilting his head to study her. Seeing the subtle evidence of a crying jag he gently prompted, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," she assured him, mask securely in place. "All this drama is exhausting…"

She was as distressed by the impending wedding as he was but Kurt didn't think she'd _cry_ over it. No – it had to be something else. He knew better than to push her on it, though. "Call me tomorrow?"

He was looking at her like he expected Psycho Quinn to emerge at any moment and she couldn't really blame him. "I'm fine, Kurt. Really. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix…" Pecking his cheek she ushered him back to the others before going to find her hosts. "Sugar, Mr. Motta. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"Oh – you're not leaving already?" Sugar sighed, disappointed. "There's still door prizes and second desserts and a karaoke contest, which really is kind of unfair with the glee club around but screw everyone else, and…"

"Let the girl go, Sugar," Al gently interjected, knowing she'd go on for eternity otherwise. "Thank you for coming, Miss Fabray." His daughter spoke often (and at great length) of her new friends, not least of whom the girl who'd gotten her accepted into the New Directions after her initial rejection.

Smiling gratefully at the man, as much for the rescue as for the invite, Quinn motioned him to walk with her. Good manners weren't the only reason she hadn't left without speaking to him… "Sir, with all due respect I have to inquire about your plans for your less 'composed' guests…"

Al's lips quirked into a grin at the girl's careful phrasing, the clear markings of a born diplomat. "I heard you've been accepted into Yale… Political Science?"

Quinn blinked, both at the effortless dismissal of her question (was this how people felt when talking to her?) and his knowledge of her chosen discipline when she'd told everyone she'd applied to Drama. "Yes, sir. Though my colorful history precludes me from mainstream politics so I'll be pursuing other avenues." She didn't know why she'd shared that, except maybe to warn him she wasn't to be bought, now or in the future. Not mafia, her white girl ass…

"I predict you'll be very successful whatever the _avenue_," Al volunteered, amused by the hidden message. "In response to your question, I have cars waiting to escort anyone who should need it."

Ignoring the touch of condescension in his tone Quinn nodded graciously. "I hope you understand I ask only for my own peace of mind…" No point in needlessly making an enemy of the man.

The manner in which she carried herself, the weight behind her eyes, spoke of someone far beyond her years, and Al both admired and pitied her. "Your concern for your friends is commendable, Miss Fabray. You set a fine example for my daughter."

Quinn hid her shame behind a coy smile. "That's very kind, sir, but I'm no one's role model." Unless they were looking for new and improved ways to screw up their life and everyone else's…

"You're too hard on yourself…" Al was well aware of her aforementioned 'colorful' history, having vetted all of Sugar's potential acquaintances, but he wasn't worried she would be a bad influence. If anything the girl had proven herself incredibly loyal and resilient, and there were far worse characteristics his daughter could be exposed to. "Regardless, I'm grateful for what you've done for her."

For a fleeting second Quinn found herself indescribably jealous of Sugar Motta; they may have come from similar backgrounds but she was sure their upbringings couldn't have been more different. "I didn't do anything for her, sir – there was just a glitch in the recruitment process that finally resolved itself."

_Definitely a diplomat._ Foreseeing an endless back and forth Al took her free hand between both of his to firmly assert, "If you ever need anything you be sure to let me know."

"Thank you, sir," Quinn responded automatically, and as she watched him walk away she thought how utterly bizarre the night was… Scanning the crowd she noticed that both Sam and Mercedes were missing; unfortunately _not _missing was one Rachel Berry who was currently bearing down on her.

"Gosh, Quinn!" Rachel began in a rush, "Kurt told me you're leaving and I know you're not thrilled with us getting married – me and Finn, not me and Kurt – but I can see you've been crying and…"

"Rachel!" Gripping the brunette's shoulders Quinn held her surprised eyes. "I know this may be hard to believe but my universe does _not_ revolve around you…" Averting the Finchel train wreck could wait until tomorrow; right now she just wanted to get home, go to bed, and hopefully wake up to find the night had all been a bad dream.

Rachel's lips fell into a denied pout. "Then what's wrong?"

Lifting a pointed eyebrow Quinn revealed, "People keep asking me '_what's wrong?_'"

"Oh." After a second Rachel realized that if people kept asking there was a _reason_ for it but the blonde was already headed for the door. "Quinn!"

"Goodnight, Rachel," Quinn waved over her shoulder. Exiting into the chilly air for the second time she set to searching for her keys as she made her way to her car.

Lest she accuse him of sneaking up on her again Sam announced his presence with a deadpanned, "Were you asking Sugar's dad for tips on how to get rid of my body?"

Quinn dropped the key ring she'd been pulling from her purse; told herself the wild beating of her heart had everything to do with the shock and _nothing _to do with the sight of him leaning casually against her Bug. "What makes you think yours would be my first?" she implied with a dangerous eyebrow.

Her dry wit was as predictable as her refusal to let anyone see her flustered. "So what you're saying…" he clarified, face breaking out in a cheeky grin, "…is that my body'll be in experienced hands?"

Feeling her cheeks heat Quinn quickly crouched to pick up the fallen keys. "What are you doing, Sam?" she huffed, regrettably more breathless than exasperated.

"You offered me a ride home, remember?" He took the keys from her, intentionally trailing his fingertips along her palm as he came away with them, and went to start the car so it could warm up while she (inevitably) fought him.

Quinn watched him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't surprised he was conveniently forgetting the _rest_ of their conversation, but if he was going to insist on being all flirty and adorably considerate _while_ doing it she was going to have a hard time not developing selective amnesia herself… "I don't think that's a good idea," she told him once he'd reemerged.

"Look, I know I came on a little strong…" He stopped in front of her and ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. "But _you_ know I only have two gears when it comes to you: neutral and fifth." Indifferent through sheer necessity or emotional full throttle.

"Fifth with a boost of NOS," she mock-chided, hating the resignation in his voice. "Your courting habits make Rachel and Finn look reserved…"

The smile gracing her lips took the sting from the comparison. "True," he admitted with a careless shrug, "you're probably lucky I didn't have a ring on me…"

Quinn's smile faded. "Sam, that's not funny." She couldn't deny that the words made her breath catch, that a small part of her didn't still entertain the fantasy, but her rational side, the side she was actively trying to cultivate these days, would have none of it.

The happiest he'd ever been was when she was wearing that token of his affection, declaring to all of McKinley and the world that she was his, and it was no more than an unfortunate joke to her… Burying the hurt he sighed, "I want you to help me find first, okay?"

His crestfallen expression left Quinn feeling sick. He was so sensitive to her moods – feeding off of her praise, disapproval, and everything in between – and she realized how _insensitive_ she was being to him. Just because she couldn't meet his expectations didn't mean he was less entitled to them. But she couldn't encourage them, either… Not knowing how else to break the tension she purposely misconstrued his meaning to tease, "I think you know where first is, Sam; you were stuck on it pretty much our entire relationship…"

Sam knew it was her way of saying his previous comment was forgotten (sadly _not _an invitation) and he figured that was as good as it was going to get. He wouldn't give up hope, though; she hadn't exactly been receptive the first time around, either… "You were right, when you said we're barely friends anymore. We can start with that…"

She stood there quietly, calculating gaze locked onto his, having her second internal debate of the night. There were so many reasons for her to say no; so many ways it could go _wrong_. She without a doubt _knew _he was looking for more than friendship and was just getting his foot in the door. And yet there was still only one answer she could give. "Don't make me regret this, Evans…"

Despite the warning Sam released a relieved breath and jumped to open the door for her. "Milady…" She rolled her beautiful eyes but got in, and once he'd closed the door behind her he allowed himself a small fist pump as he made his way around to the passenger side.

'I am _so_ going to regret this,' Quinn mumbled while she clicked her seatbelt into place. Watching him climb in and do the same, her heart speeding up at his nearness, she cursed her long-established lack of willpower where Sam Evans was concerned. _It's only a fifteen minute drive, Q; you can do it without turning into a big puddle of goo. Or jumping him. Oh, God…_

"I'm hungry," he announced shamelessly when she'd pulled out of the spot.

Quinn lifted a disbelieving eyebrow without turning. "We _just_ left a restaurant…" They weren't even out of the lot yet and he was already testing her…

Okay, so his excuses needed a little work… "But we ate three hours ago and I'm a growing boy; ever since I got back on the team my metabolism shot back up…" He silently congratulated himself on the quick thinking_._

_Growing boy… _Quinn could have done without the use of that particular label, though it did serve to remind her _why_ her earlier decision was the right one. "I'm sure Carol keeps a fully-stocked fridge…"

Sam laughed. "Yeah – for the two seconds it takes Finn to raid it…" When he realized she wasn't laughing with him – that her jaw was set in a determined line – he mentally backtracked to find what he'd said wrong. "Quinn…" He shifted so he was facing her, defending, "It was a joke. I grew up a lot this past year…"

"I know," she agreed quietly. And that was exactly the point. He was just now getting back to being a teenager, with football and glee and _not_ worrying about supporting his family; he had another year of high school to enjoy and she… she was on the verge of starting the rest of her life. It wasn't anyone's fault; that's just the way it was. "I find it hard to believe your metabolism ever went down," she confessed, giving him a sly once-over.

He knew she was only checking him out to change the subject, just like he knew pressing the issue wouldn't get him anywhere. Not until he'd charmed her into delaying going home, anyway. "Well, they do tend to frown on pudgy strippers…"

Quinn glanced at him but didn't comment.

They'd never talked about his job in Kentucky (the list of things they _had _talked about since his return was infinitely shorter) and it occurred to him that she might find it objectionable. "Does that bother you?"

That women had treated him like a piece of meat? Yes. That he'd done it? "No. I've done enough morally questionable things for less than noble reasons." Giving him a sad smile she allowed, "I know why you did it." His dedication to his family was only one of the many reasons she loved him.

She wasn't always predictable (or logical) in what she deemed acceptable so Sam was relieved by her reaction (or lack thereof). "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?"

Quinn saw his platitude and raised him a hard-earned insight: "Our ability to rationalize is at once our greatest gift and biggest flaw…" She'd kept the truth from Finn because it would only hurt him; hadn't let Puck weigh in about the adoption because she knew what was best; framed Shelby because Beth needed her real mother and not an undeserving substitute. She'd made convincing herself she was justified an art form and clinging to those delusions a state of being.

The wistful tone told Sam it was more from experience than out of some book, and he realized she wasn't the same Quinn Fabray at all. He hadn't thought it possible but in that moment he loved her even more… "When did you get so wise?"

_Wise?_ She didn't feel wise, she felt _old_. Too many trials by fire over too short a time left her tired and jaded. Clucking her tongue she glibly dismissed, "When I stopped drinking tap; I swear they're putting something in our water supply…"

Sam shook his head, touching her arm because she couldn't see it. "I'm serious, Q; you should be proud of yourself…"

She'd done far more to be ashamed of than proud but she took comfort from his words all the same. "Therapy helped me learn to accept the things I can't change." Sparing him a glance she admitted, "Knowing which is which is a little harder but I'm working on it."

The look made Sam think he was one of the things she was working on classifying. Taking in every detail of her face, seeing the strength hidden beneath the gentle beauty, he swore, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." Above all else that's what he wished _he _could change.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat at the quiet intensity. "It wasn't your responsibility, Sam." He shouldn't feel guilty about it; she'd negated any loyalty he owed her when she'd cheated on him.

Maybe not, but still… "I was clinging to neutral and you didn't deserve that…" She deserved so much more, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

"Thank you." She pulled her Bug into the spot and threw it into park none-too-soon, her vision suddenly blurry. Staring out the windshield she willed her eyes dry.

Sam had been so focused on her the entire drive he was surprised to see they were in the parking lot of the all-night diner they used to frequent and _not_ the driveway of the double-H house. When he looked back at her he was pretty sure it was with open adoration. "You have no idea how much I missed you…"

It was a direct contradiction to what he'd just said but Quinn knew what he meant: sometimes you didn't realize what you were missing until you were reminded what you'd lost. Finally turning to him she whispered back, "Yeah – I think I do…"

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><p><strong>There's one chapter left to wrap this up. Hope you enjoyed :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the crazy delay, y'all - this story isn't in one of my main fandoms and as such fell to the bottom of the rotation. I haven't watched Glee in eons (hate the new characters, not much Quinn, and a Sam whose character was [IMO] utterly destroyed to make him a suitable pairing for Britney. Remember when he was just geeky and sweet with learning disabilities and _not_ a complete idiot?) but I still love my Fabrevans.**

**If you all need a recap this story started last Valentine's Day (good god it's been a while - again, _sorry)_ when Quinn tried to counsel Sam through his Mercedes issues. This is still the same night and takes up right after the end of the last chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy :)**

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><p>Sam held the diner door open for Quinn and followed her to their usual table. He wondered if she knew the message she was sending by picking the worn and faded booth; smiled because at the very least she hadn't chosen to send a different message by<em> not<em> picking it.

He was giving her that familiar half-grin – like he was shy or nervous – and Quinn cursed herself for the equally familiar flutter occupying her stomach. "Are you going to sit or are you getting your food to go?"

The dulcet voice cut into his deliberation of whether or not he could get away with sitting next to her the way he used to. Afraid she might _make _him take his food to go he played it safe and slid onto the bench across from her. "Hi."

"Hi," she returned coolly, certain he was going to pretend they were meeting for the first time. When he didn't follow up with, 'I'm Sam, Sam I am," she found herself strangely disappointed.

She was studying him – perched primly with hands clasped in front of her – and he felt like a specimen under a particularly strong microscope. He couldn't bring himself to _mind_, though, because it gave him an excuse to study her just as intently.

The waitress' arrival saved Quinn from asking if he'd brought her there just to stare at her. Or saved her from his _answer_, rather – she suspected that (intentionally or not) it would have renewed the flutter… "I'll have a diet iced tea," she told the older woman, declining the proffered menu. "Thank you."

Sam accepted one without taking his eyes off her. "You're not hungry?"

She lifted her shoulders in a non-committal shrug. "I'm not a growing boy." More importantly? She didn't have the _metabolism_ of one.

"So?" Adopting a southern drawl he argued, "You don't need to be a growing boy to enjoy a piece of _pie_…"

"I'll let you two have a minute…"

Quinn gave the waitress an apologetic smile then shook her head at him, equal parts amused and disgusted. "_No one_ should be eating pie this time of night..." Just the thought of all those empty calories made her cringe.

Normally Sam would agree but he was willing to make an exception. "I'll work it off tomorrow; tonight I'm celebrating."

She lifted a pointed eyebrow. "Did you guys win a game I don't know about?"

Sam heard (and ignored) the not-so-subtle warning. "_Better_…"

"_Sam_…" This time the shake of her head was exasperated; of _course_ he wouldn't take the hint to drop it...

"I'm just happy to have my friend back…" Wearing his most innocent expression he feigned confusion. "Why? What did you think I meant?"

What he'd meant was so obvious– not to mention _presumptuous_ – that calling him on it would only have been a waste of breath… "Never mind. Have your pie, _Pudge_."

Deciding he'd tested his boundaries enough for the moment Sam waved the waitress back over.

"Ready?"

He nodded and handed the menu back. "I'll have the pecan pie, warmed, with whipped cream and a scoop of French vanilla." It may have been one of the most sugar-laden items on the menu but it was also one of _her_ guiltiest pleasures… "And a glass of milk."

The way he was avoiding her gaze confirmed Quinn's hunch that it was a shameless manipulation. Opting to save her remaining willpower for _him_ (Lord knew she was going to need it) she gave in with a resigned, "_Two_ scoops…"

"You heard the lady," Sam told the waitress, sparing a triumphant wink for his favorite non-familial blonde.

_Ugh. _Once they were alone again Quinn narrowed her eyes. "That's not playing fair."

He wasn't _playing_ at all… "Come on – a little treat every once in a while isn't going to kill you."

She groaned in self-loathing. "Maybe not but it _will_ make it so I don't fit into any of my clothes…"

The remark was just begging for a dirty comeback but Sam took the more sincere approach. And her hand. "You'd still be breathtakingly beautiful…"

_Speaking_ of breath being taken… She exhaled slowly as she searched for a neutral topic. "So when was the last time you called home?"

Sam knew she wasn't as unaffected as she was pretending but he _also_ knew not to push too far too fast… "A couple of days ago; we Skype at least once a week." Even though she hadn't pulled away he gently released her. "They're good."

Silently mourning the loss of contact she predicted, "The kids must really miss you." She'd always been undeniably jealous of the relationship he had with his siblings.

"Yeah – this is the longest I've been away from them." He gave her a charmed smile. "I think Stacey misses _you_ more, though; she liked having a big sister."

Not as much as Quinn had liked having someone who actually looked up to her, she was sure… "I miss her, too. And Stevie, of course." _All_ of them, really; she missed being 'part' of a complete, loving family.

Sam shook his head in exaggerated sadness. "I hate to have to report he's moved on. He's got a student teacher – Miss Jasmine – he's quite taken with…"

_Jasmine?_ Sounded like the girl should have been collecting small bills rather than quizzes… Aloud she wondered, "Should I be insulted I'm so easily replaced?"

"No…" He absentmindedly nodded his thanks to the waitress as she deposited their drinks on the table. "I think he's just settling; if you were around he wouldn't give her a second thought."

"Doesn't surprise me," Quinn allowed, pausing to take an overly casual sip from her straw. "It seems 'fickle' comes standard with the Evans 'Y' chromosome…"

Sam's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." She shouldn't have said it – _regardless_ of whether or not it was true – because it was petty and mean and beneath her. Or beneath who she was _trying _to be, at least… "Never mind."

"_Nuh-uh_…" Aside from her tone telling him it was _absolutely_ something? "You never say _anything_ for nothing." He may not always _get _it…

Quinn gladly accepted the distraction of the waitress reappearing with their food. "Thank you."

He picked up the spoons before she could claim one. "Quinn, you can't say something I don't understand then pretend you didn't. It's not fair."

Her chest tightened, his dejected expression letting her know she could add making him feel stupid to her list of offenses. "Just this morning you were pledging your undying love to Mercedes," she recapped as the waitress retreated.

Using the pilfered utensils he directed her attention to the diner's clock. "Technically it was _yesterday_ morning."

Was he _seriously_ arguing semantics with her? "Point _is_ we wouldn't even be here if she hadn't rejected you." She plucked one of the spoons from his hand to wave it at him. "Clearly your brother isn't the _only_ one with a short attention span."

"You're right," he shrugged. "We _wouldn't_ be here."

Quinn suppressed a flinch.

"But only because you wouldn't have had a reason to reach out to me…" Reaching out to _her_ he entwined their fingers. "We wouldn't have said all the shit that was still keeping us apart."

His reasoning soothed her ego but did nothing for her super-ego… "It's fickle and misled," she informed him, pulling away. "And it's not fair to Mercedes for you to replace her so easily."

Sam sighed. "Look, I'm not saying I don't have feelings for her…" That hadn't changed. "But you're _it _for me, Quinn. Always have been. And she knows that."

_Oh, God…_ Heart dropping into her stomach Quinn demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"I told her before we left Breadstix." He knew it seemed cruel but he'd wanted to start clean, without any secrets or anyone being confused. "Quinn, she wasn't surprised; she said it was probably part of the reason she was hesitating." He thought it prudent to leave out the part where she suspected the blonde still had feelings for him, too.

"Sam, that doesn't make it better." It only made her feel _worse_, actually. Poor Mercedes…

Sam hated that she felt guilty for his actions. "It didn't happen the best way but I won't apologize for loving you, Q." Her lack of response worried him, as did the way she was just quietly chewing on her lip. "You believe I love you, right?"

"I don't know." She wanted to believe it wasn't just some rebound thing – the alternative making Mercedes' ousting that much more despicable – but at the same time she wished he _didn't_; it would only complicate things and she was _so_ done with complicated… "It doesn't really matter."

"How can you say that?" She wasn't exactly falling into his arms but he couldn't be reading _all_ of her signals wrong.

Quinn dug into the pie, more for an excuse to avoid his gaze than because she wanted it. "It's just… I'm finally getting my life together."

The implication left him feeling cold. "And what? You think I'm gonna screw it up for you?"

"No – I think _I_ am." Biting the bullet she admitted, "I don't like who I become when I'm with someone, Sam. Needy and irrational." _Instant neurotic she-beast: just add boyfriend!_

Sam gave a violent shake of his head. "Don't lump me in with Finn and Puck, okay?" The mere association was offensive. "You weren't like that with me because I never gave you _reason_ to be."

Swallowing the lump that had taken up residence in her throat she softly allowed, "I know." She'd never caught him even looking at another girl, which was probably why him moving onto Santana so fast had hurt so much. Then again, she _had _given him a reason…

It wasn't clear by the pensive look of her face whether she was thinking of his betrayal with Santana or her own with Finn but it didn't matter; he just hated that there was still so much pain there. "Hey…" Tapping her nose with his (still-clean) spoon he waited for her to meet his eyes. "We were great together. _Perfect_ even…" So they'd made some mistakes…

"We were mocked as Barbie and Ken," she reminded him wryly.

"You know you loved being McKinley's Golden Couple," he teased, spurred on by the twitch of lips that belied her tone. "We can be that again, Quinn."

Rationality dictate she ignore the little leap her heart did. "For what? Four months? Until school lets out and you go back to Kentucky?"

Every time Sam managed to knock down a wall there was another one (or six) behind it. Good thing he was persistent… "We could just go visit – the kids would love to see you – and then I can spend the summer here."

"Okay…" That would give them another two months before she went off to college, assuming she _didn't_ leave early to get settled… "Then what? We just part ways come August?"

Sam shrugged; admitted, "I don't know." He didn't even know where he'd be _living_ senior year, or if he'd want to stay at all with her and the guys gone. "But I wouldn't ask you to stay for me if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm worried you wouldn't _have _to, Sam." That she wouldn't be_ able_ to leave once she had him back.

The confession left him both reassured he _hadn't _been reading the signals wrong and relieved that he was _finally_ getting somewhere… "Alright – what if I promise not to let you?"

Quinn didn't know what was cuter: that he thought he could force her or that he thought he'd be able to bring himself to _try_… "I'm sorry but I can't risk it." She wasn't sure it would even be _possible_ to go back to it being about her after it had been about them.

"We'd only be apart a year, Q. Nine months…" Nine months that he would _not _spend agonizing over her being surrounded by hot _smart_ college boys.

"And then what? You'd follow me?" She gave a disdainful shake of her head. "This is exactly why I'm against Finn and Rachel getting married: Love isn't always enough. Love won't stop them from resenting each other for whatever they have to give up _for _that love."

Sam was definitely smart enough to connect _those _dots, and he was starting to see a downside to the newer _wiser_ Quinn… "What would I be giving up? I can get a job anywhere…"

_A job?_ "You wanted to get into digital programming; what happened to that?"

It was his turn to avoid her gaze, drawing designs in the rapidly-melting ice cream. "With everything going on it just didn't seem important anymore, you know?" Keeping a roof over their heads had taken priority over homework he probably would've done wrong anyway.

Quinn pursed her lips in sympathy. "It _is _important, Sam – you're going to work on the next Avatar movie, remember?" Realistic or not it was his dream and she didn't want to see it die.

"You know I don't have the grades for that. At least when you were tutoring me it felt like I had a chance." When they'd gotten any tutoring _done_, anyway…

Oh, she knew – it had been a constant struggle even _with _her help, his learning disabilities as discouraging as they were a real hindrance – and the guilt of abandoning him gnawed at her. She could defer Yale for a year; make some extra money while seeing him through to graduation and into a decent… _Snap out of it, Fabray! You're not even together and you're __**already**__ doing it!_ Shushing the abusive (yet regrettably _correct_) voice she returned her attention outward. "That's not an excuse, Sam. I know you can do it if you just put in the effort."

What? How had it become a discussion about his lack of commitment? "My point is Finn's banking on a scholarship; he'd have to go wherever they take him. I can go to school or work in Connecticut and it doesn't change anything for me." He looked up then, putting everything he felt into his eyes. "Except we'd be together."

It was all moving too fast – not hypothetical at all – and his sincerity was beginning to wear her down. After the moment it took to come up with a response that _didn't_ include some variation of 'take me now' she feebly argued, "You don't even know you'll still _want_ to be together in a year…"

He _did_ know but that was beside the point. "Then what are you worried about? By the time you have to leave maybe we won't want anything to do with each other and then it's all mute anyway."

Quinn opened her mouth only to close it, being bested by her own logic leaving her too stunned (and maybe _impressed_) to even correct his grammar.

As tempted as Sam was to declare victory he knew the chickens had yet to hatch… "Can't we just focus on now?" he proposed softly, holding his pie-laden spoon out to her. "Figure out the rest later?"

Indignation helped her find her words. "Focusing on 'now' is what always gets me into trouble…" And she seriously doubted this time would be any different.

It wasn't a '_no,_' and he waved the extended utensil from side to side as a matador would his cape. "You know you're sucking all the romance out of this, right?"

She was good at that – taking things that should have been fun and overcomplicating them until they brought nothing but misery; building them up into something so big there was no room for anything but failure. There were a lot of things she was good at that she wished she _wasn't_… "Is this your attempt at romance, Mr. Evans?" Quirking an unimpressed eyebrow she tsk'ed, "Because I must say it doesn't meet your usual standards…"

"I guess I got rusty without my muse," he immediately countered, only half-teasing.

That his instinct was to praise her when he could just as easily _blame_ her torpedoing his every effort spoke volumes. Thankfully the waitress' approach kept Quinn from acting on her _own_ instincts…

"Can I get you two anything else?"

Sam pulled the untouched spoon back with a sigh. "No. Thank you." He couldn't even get her to eat the food they _did_ have.

"Great. I'll just close your bill, then."

"Oh, we're not together," he corrected as she calculated their total.

"You're going to make me write up a separate bill for an iced tea?"

The woman seemed annoyed and Quinn couldn't really fault her for it. "It's fine," she placated with a smile, "I'll just put in my share."

Pulling out his wallet Sam handed the waitress enough money to cover their order and the tip. "I was kidding, Q. Just letting you know that _I_ know it's not a date." And maybe hoping history would repeat itself and she'd let _him _know it had become one…

Once they'd exchanged goodbyes with the waitress Quinn waited for him to pick up their previous conversation; was unexpectedly more confused than relieved when he _didn't_… Following his lead she continued eating in (awkward) silence.

Sam hesitated before taking the last bite from the plate; washed it down with the rest of his milk. "I guess it's time to go."

His disappointment was palpable (and not altogether unshared) but she forced herself to stay strong. "Okay."

He was halfway to his feet before he thought better of it and sank back down with a muffled thud. "Look, I didn't mean to push so hard…" If they couldn't be more he at least wanted to make sure she didn't change her mind about them being friends. "I just didn't want to waste any more time, you know?"

Something inside Quinn snapped. Before good sense could kick in she blurted out, "Do you want to come home with me?"

Sam blinked. "What?" Surely he'd misheard…

"Not… not to _do_ anything. As friends. To talk." She wasn't ready to commit to anything but she wasn't ready for the night to end, either… "My mom's out of town and the guest room is infinitely more comfortable than the Hudson pullout. Not to mention _cleaner_; I know what Finn's done on that thing…" Kill her now – first she inadvertently propositioned him and then she babbled about her ex's alone time. _Smooth move, Fabray…_

While it was a mental image Sam could have done without it wasn't anywhere _near_ enough to ruin the moment… "Yeah," he shrugged, playing it cool. "Okay."

Quinn released the nervous breath she'd been holding and stood. "Okay."

"Okay." He jumped up to grab her coat from the rack, not caring that it tossed 'cool' right out the window. "_Milady_…"

Willing her body not to react to his proximity (or boyish charm) she slid an arm into a sleeve. "Thanks."

Sam couldn't resist letting the tips of his fingers graze across her exposed skin; was encouraged by the way she shivered under his touch. "In case you were wondering…" Leaning in so his mouth was a hair's breadth away from her ear he whispered, "I would have said yes even if you _hadn't_ made me afraid for my health…"

Quinn heaved an inward sigh. It was like there was a freight train bearing down on her and she just couldn't bring herself to move off the tracks…

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><p><strong>Okay, so I know I said this was going to be the last chapter but it ended up being hell-a long and this was actually the perfect place to break. I promise to try to get the (actual) conclusion up in less than a year.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**So it's taken me two and a half years but I've finally finished this story - Yay! As much as I love my Fabrevans (and I do) I'm glad to have one less story sitting on my hard drive waiting to be finished. Only three more to go...**

**This picks up right after the last chapter, when they get to Quinn's house. Without further ado, the conclusion of Everything She Touched:**

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><p>"Here…" Quinn reentered the guest bedroom carrying a grey t-shirt and Christmas-themed flannel pajama bottoms. "My father wasn't really the tank and sweats type but these'll be more comfortable than your suit, at least."<p>

Sam took the proffered bundle in one hand; her wrist in the other before she could retreat. "_Thanks_."

His tone spoke to something far less trivial than rifling through boxes in a dusty attic… "It's just clothes," she played dumb, the fingers pressed into her skin not the most of which held her rooted in place.

"_Thanks_ for giving me a chance to be your friend again." The quiet correction was accompanied by his massaging of her pulse with a gentle thumb.

The gesture wasn't purely friendly (or his expression merely grateful) but Quinn couldn't complain for the lump in her throat. "Uh…" Reclaiming her hand she moved to swipe an imaginary wrinkle from the duvet. "Did you text Finn to let him know you weren't coming home?"

Sam sighed – both at the loss of contact and the turn in conversation – then nodded. "You know what they're gonna think, right?" On the off-chance she _didn't_ he felt it only right to give her an opportunity to change her mind.

She _did_ know, and she'd be lying if she said it hadn't given her more than a little pause… "That's one of those things I can't change," she reasoned, feigning an indifferent shrug. "I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen."

As she left the room he released the breath he'd been holding. "Okay."

Quinn closed her bedroom door behind her and slowly disrobed, zipping her dress into a dry-cleaning bag. Donned a pair of pajama capris and camisole, then marveled at how she always managed to get herself into these situations as she thought better of the outfit and added a bra for propriety's sake; went into her bathroom and removed all trace of makeup for the same reason. Going to her jewellery box she exchanged what she was wearing for a simple butterfly pendant and diamond stud earrings, her eye drawn to the small box she'd managed to ignore nestled there since the break-up. After a seeming eternity she allowed her fingers to drift over its smooth surface, then ease it open to liberate the treasure within.

"_Quinn_?"

His voice barely registered, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of how easy it would be to just slide the ring home; to make like the last year hadn't happened and fall back into their relationship as though they'd never been apart. To fall back into _him_… But nothing was ever easy for her, even if it seemed that way to others (even if she did her best to _make_ it seem that way). Because no matter how she _began_ things – slow and careful or hard and fast – they always _ended_ messy and painful and this time would be no different. Which made her an absolute idiotfor even _considering_ it…

"_Q? You okay_?"

The note of panic permeated Quinn's trance and brought her back to reality. Realizing it must have been far longer than the designated fifteen minutes she called out for him to enter.

Despite the summons Sam entered cautiously – afraid the delay meant she _had_ changed her mind – and kept to himself the thought that she was maybe _more_ stunning, fresh-faced and in pink cotton pajamas, than she had been all fancied up. "_Hi_."

She gave him a half-smile before turning her attention back to the ring. "Hi."

His breath hitched when he noticed the object of her scrutiny. "You still have it?" The light bouncing off its facets acted like tiny beacons of hope.

"I would have given it back but I thought you'd just throw it away." And the possibility of its loss, after having lost _him, _was a risk she just hadn't been able to take… Carefully returning it to its nest she held the entirety out to him. "Here."

As angry and hurt as he'd been he probably _would_ have thrown it away; was absolutely certain he would've regretted it… "It's yours," he told her with a sharp jerk of his head, "Even if we aren't together." Even if she wouldn't _let _them be together.

Quinn forced the box into his palm. "I don't want it."

"_Oh_." He looked down at the unwanted 'gift,' chest tightening as hope dimmed and died.

The dejection in that one syllable broke Quinn's heart. Tilting his face up until he met her gaze she gently curled his fingers over the physical reminder of their love. "_Now, _Sam – I don't want it _now_."

Sam's brow crumpled in confusion. "I don't understand."

"I want you to hold on to it," she explained patiently, allowing her lips to twitch into a suggestive grin. "You might need it come end of summer."

Hope sprang anew, but with it a healthy dose of skepticism. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Was she giving them a chance?

"Unless you think I'm telling you to keep it for your next girlfriend…" She lifted a critical eyebrow; offered, "And I think you know me better than that…" Grin taking over once more, the sparkle in her eye matched the tentative one in his. "…Then _yes_." She could admit (to herself, at least) that that was _another_ reason she hadn't returned the ring: as afraid as she'd been that he'd throw it away she'd been equally afraid that he _wouldn't_; that he would regift it to Santana or some other girl and destroy her all over again.

Her intentions finally (_blissfully_) clear, Sam gathered her up in his arms and stole her from the ground, the ring still clutched tightly in his hand. He chuckled at her squeal of surprise but didn't stop spinning them in circles until he was winded and dizzy.

"Happy?" she smiled fondly down at him, ignoring the pain of the box digging into her flesh.

Sam nodded emphatically. "But should I be worried you changed your mind after seeing me in your dad's clothes?"

The eyebrow made another appearance, this time indignant. "Should I be offended you're worrying about my daddy issues right now?" When there were much_ better_ things he could be doing?

His eyes fell to where her pink tongue had emerged to moisten her lips. "Is that an invitation?"

"What do you think?" she posed huskily, wrapping her legs around his waist to take some of the burden from his arms.

"I don't know…" Falling easily back into their old teasing banter he mock-confessed, "My 'Fabray' is a little rusty…"

"Well, I've been told I'm an _excellent _tutor…" She freed a hand from his neck to trace a thumb down his cheek and over his slightly-open mouth. "Up for a refresher course?"

Sam's heart thudded painfully against his ribcage. Moving to lay her on the bed he whispered, "That's a lesson I could _definitely _get behind." But once he'd lain down beside her he found he couldn't do much more than stare.

After a moment she ran her fingers through his hair, head tilted curiously. "What are you thinking?"

Other than that he'd be _devastated_ if he woke up and this was only a dream? "What really made you change your mind?"

Quinn shrugged. "Does it matter?"

It did to _him_… "I don't want you to do something you don't want to do just because I pressured you." He knew he could be a little rabid when it came to what he wanted, most especially when it came to _her_.

"You didn't pressure…" She trailed off, realizing it would be a blatant lie. "Okay, you _did_; But I'm _glad _you did. I have enough regrets." She didn't _want_ to have regrets – she wanted to be able to see the mistakes she'd made as _learning experiences_ – but with all the people her choices had hurt she couldn't help but sometimes wish she could go back and do things differently.

Sam nodded sagely. "You don't want to add me to the list."

Shaking her head Quinn quietly corrected, "I want to take you _off _the list." She couldn't say he was the _biggest_ regret she had but he was definitely up there. "Even if it doesn't work at least I won't have to wonder 'what if?'" Like she'd been doing for the last year.

_If it doesn't work? _"It's _gonna_ work," he vehemently predicted. "We're meant to be. Like Ken and Barbie."

That argument didn't work _nearly_ as well as he thought it did… "Ken and Barbie broke up, Sam."

"What? They did?" Well, that sucked. But he wouldn't let it rain on _his_ parade… "Screw Ken and Barbie; we're better than them, anyway!"

Quinn smiled at his naïve enthusiasm while inwardly she cringed. She hoped beyond hope he was right; knew from experience he was probably _wrong_. Made a conscious decision not to spend their last few months together fighting him on it… "Yes, we are," she agreed indulgently, slowly drawing him down into her.

When their lips finally met it was unhurried and tentative; as gentle as the first time and carrying with it the same sense of wonder and fulfillment. But when her mouth parted beneath his Sam was nearly overcome by a sense of tragic urgency, like he had to _meld_ into her or risk losing her forever… Unable to take it he pulled away – needing to put into words the love he had so long suppressed – only to notice wet tracts on her cheeks. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

She prevented his panicked retreat by hooking a leg around his waist. "No, you didn't hurt me." But the thought of losing him so soon after finding him again _did_. It felt like her heart was being crushed with love and loss all at the same time, suffocating her… "Sam, I want you to make love to me."

"What?" Sam gaped, his thumb distractedly abandoning its mission to dry her face. "Now?"

Quinn nodded, completely serious. "Yes, now. We don't know when we'll have another opportunity and you were right…" Capturing his idle hand in hers she brushed her lips across his knuckles. "I don't want to waste any more time, either."

His pulse sped up, though not for the obvious reasons, and he disentangled himself to sit on the edge of the bed. "I can't."

Rising up onto her elbows Quinn pouted disbelievingly at his profile. "'Why not?' she asks, trying _really _hard not to take it personally." After everything he'd done to get them there _he_ was denying _her_?

"It's not you," he quickly swore, running a shaky hand through his hair. "It's just… I don't deserve you."

Indignation was (mostly) replaced by concerned curiosity. "Okay, what does _that_ mean?"

Sam hadn't thought this far ahead. Hadn't thought they'd actually get back together _at all_ much less that he'd be having this discussion _tonight…_ Avoiding her piercing stare he began, "I'm not a…" Trailed off, hoping she'd understand without him having to admit it aloud.

Given the topic and his reaction, Quinn was (unfortunately) able to fill in the blank; felt her chest constrict accordingly. "Mercedes?"

"_No_," Sam sighed, head in his hands. "Some woman from the club."

"Oh." She would have _preferred_ Mercedes – especially considering the implication that he'd done it _for _something – but she was in no position to judge _anyone_ on who they chose to lose their virginity to. "Okay."

Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, and it was somehow worse than anger or hurt. "It didn't mean anything, Q," he vowed, turning to her. "If I'd known…"

"_Shh_…" Moving to kneel behind him she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his torso. "We're starting over – none of that matters."

He instinctively leaned back into her, seeking out the warmth of her body. "But I wish…"

"Stop. Accept the things we can't change, remember?" Lord knew she had more than her fair share of baggage that could affect them if they let it. "What happened then doesn't change how we feel about each other _now_."

His shame fell under the soft barrage of acceptance and practicality. "And how _do _we feel about each other?" he fished, easing her around to straddle him.

Quinn gave him a mischievous grin; shifted deliberately in his lap. "I must be losing my touch because I don't _feel _anything…"

It was nothing short of mystifying, how she could say something so racy, with such _ease_, yet still flush an endearingly self-conscious pink… "I love you, Quinn Fabray." And he _meant_ it, with every fiber of his being.

"And I love _you_, Sam Evans," she promised before closing the distance to press tender lips to his.

Sam sighed against her mouth, reveling in the moment, then begged access with a swipe of his tongue across her bottom lip. When the kiss immediately deepened – his fingers kneading her hips as the passion built between them – he forced himself to break away.

Quinn could tell by his expression (dazedness aside), that his withdrawal went beyond a need for air. Doing her best to _not _sound exasperated she asked, "What's wrong now?"

The problem wasn't that something was wrong but that everything was _right_; perfect, even, and he couldn't help but worry it was all an illusion… "Can we just not do anything tonight?"

Letting out a frustrated huff she dropped her forehead to his. "Are you sure you're not gay?"

Sam gave her nose a quick peck; mock-threatened, "Oh, I will most definitely show you how gay I'm _not_…" _When_ he could be sure it was what she really wanted and not just in the heat of the moment or because of (unintentional) pressure… "But for tonight I just want to hold you, okay?"

As far as rejections went it was one of the nicer ones she'd gotten. It was still kinda gay, though… "Fine," she conceded after making him sweat a minute, "but we're moving to the guest room."

_Huh_? Not only would switching rooms be pretty silly (they were already _on_ a bed, after all) but it would also involve _standing_, something he wasn't quite comfortable doing in his current condition. "Do we have to?"

"Yes." Bad enough she'd given in and done her best to throw her own 'not to do anything' decree out the window… "I refuse to let you make a _complete_ liar out of me."

And suddenly it made (a nonsensical kind of) sense. Brushing back a lock of her hair he teased, "Rationalizing again?"

She ignored his obvious amusement. "I have to keep _some_ semblance of credibility." It might have seemed a ridiculous thing to take a stand on but it was the only one of her 'conditions' she'd yet to help send up in a puff of smoke. Fortunately she'd never said where _she'd _be sleeping…

Sam didn't think he would ever understand her particular brand of logic (or _any_ woman's, really) but if it made her feel better that was all that mattered. Besides: "I don't care where I sleep as long as you're with me."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart skip a beat. "You know," she whispered hoarsely, "if you keep going all 'Prince Charming' on me it's going to lose its effect; you might want to pace yourself."

"I think I'll take my chances," he whispered back, trailing his fingertips across her cheek. "If I'd listened every time you warned me off, I never would've won you over." Then _or_ now.

It had been facetious – more a nod to the effects his charm _did_ have than an actual warning – but his response (and its undeniable truth) only proved to Quinn that she'd made the right choice. While it seemed to some he wasn't near quick or worldly enough for her, it seemed to _her_ that his tendency to take things at face value, to not dissect everything into a convoluted mess, made him smart in ways she _wasn't_. She admired his ability to follow his heart without getting bogged down in the details; without over-thinking it or sabotaging himself for fear of failing. She envied him the fact that, win or lose, he could always say he'd _tried_. She _owed_ it to him that – bolstered by his stubborn persistence and complete faith in _them_ – this time she could say the same. So while some might believe he was beneath her, Quinn believed he _balanced _her, perhaps more than she did him…

Sam lifted a confused eyebrow when she moved to lie on the bed; hesitated a second before claiming the spot beside her.

Blinking back tears she molded herself to him and rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Don't ever change, okay?" Even if it meant them growing apart – that they really _weren't_ meant for forever –– she would never want him to stop being _him_. To stop taking chances.

The somber turn (and dampness on his skin) could only mean she'd gotten caught up in her thoughts again. Tightly enveloping her in his arms he joked, "Why would I want to mess with perfection?"

Quinn saw right through his attempt to lighten the mood and it only made her love him more. He was by no means 'perfection' (it had taken her an unbelievably long time to accept that there was no such thing) but he was the closest thing to perfect for _her_ and she had no intention of taking it for granted or letting him go without a fight. Not ever again… Pulling away to meet his gaze she gave him a watery smile. "_Exactly_."

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><p><strong>I'm not great with drama or romance (or anything not <em>angst)<em> so this is the best you're getting. I hope you took some enjoyment from it :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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